I hate the smell of vomit in the morning

Angela (as will be her Blog Name) thinks I'm maybe bordering on being just a bit too easy going. I suppose there was a time when I'd fight against anything I could find, and I don't suppose it was much fun for anyone who had to put up with it. There's a few people from my felix days who will testify to that. I've just come to realise that life's too short to go round fighting everything, and you should pick your battles very carefully. Certain things (anything against a good friend, things you can't change, hegemonic global capitalism) there's no real point in starting on, and at work I'm more than happy to let people walk all over me as long as I know i) I have a choice, ii) they're invited and iii) it's someone I like. Besides, once you know the shit that happens in other people's lives, you can't help but be quietly thankful for what you have.

The problem is with this is that you risk being a doormat, and Angela's view is I should fight a little more sometimes. And if something really pisses me off, there's not much that can stop me really letting loose, and I do have a tendancy to win arguments in cases like that, or at least make the person regret annoying me. Problem is, sometimes you just don't know who to start the fight with.

OK, so against this philosophical background, I woke up this morning to see the pale, fragile beauty of the October sunrise obscured by a a huge brown smear across my window. Obviously, someone threw up from one of the upstairs flats very early this morning, and as nothing annoys me more than grown men acting like sixth-formers, next thing I knew I was pounding on the door of Rowdy Upstairs Neighbour. The conversation went something like this.


- (Oh God, what do they want?)
- Morning!
- Er, morning?
- Good night last night?
- Well, er, not...
- What I mean is, you didn't happen to get drunk and throw up out the window did you?
- Me, no. I've been sober for 8 months.
- Munh?
- I used to drink too much, but I've been going to alcoholics anonymous. I was in bed by 11:30.
- Oh right... Well, good luck with the twelve steps then.

It's either an outrageous lie and I've swallowed it like an idiot, or I've really unjustly pointed the finger. Thing is, Laid Back Aussie Upstairs Neighbour also denies all knowledge. So someone's lying to me, but who.

Well, whether he's lying or not, it's an important stage of any recovery to put your faith in a higher power. So I had a chat with the Missionaries in 17, and they've kindly agreed to pay him a visit. There's nothing quite like hearing the word of Jesus on a Sunday morning.

Meanwhile I have to buy some Dettol. And a sponge. Angela, your advice please?